Southern Nights
by Scarlet Tchaikovsky
Summary: Life before the apocalypse was like a vague dream. Things were simpler. People were...civilized. To an extent, at least. Then the dead came back, and everything changed. Life became hard, people became violent. You either killed to live or you'd die and kill. That was just how the world ended up. And Nate hated every fucking second of it. [Daryl x OFC]
1. Prologue

_Southern nights,_

 _Have you ever felt a southern night?_

 _Free as a breeze,_

 _Not to mention the trees,_

 _Whistling tunes that you know and love so..._

-Southern Nights; **by Glen Campbell**

* * *

It was supposed to be an easy trip. Go to Hilltop, get Maggie the medical assistance she needed, and in no time at all they'd be back at Alexandria. Once Maggie was in good health, they'd be able to finish their mission with Jesus. That was the plan, right? To Hilltop for medical assistance, back to Alexandria when things evened out, finish the job with Jesus. But that's not what happened. Things weren't always that easy. No. . . .they never were. Not in the world they lived in. So what happened? Why weren't they at Hilltop? Why wasn't Maggie getting the help she needed? It was because of _them_. When Jesus brought _them_ up, the group that had been terrorizing Hilltop for God knows how long, it seemed like an easy enough task for Rick and company to handle. Take the threat down and bring back the peace. What Jesus _didn't_ mention was just how large _they_ were. Rick and his group were severely outnumbered. _Hilariously_ outmatched.

Rick and his group eliminated one outpost. They thought they won. They didn't. That was why, instead of being at their desired destination, they had ended up in the woods. After taking detour after detour, the group ended up in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night, on their knees. Men and women surrounded them, varying weapons in their hands. Two bodies littered the ground, their heads smashed in. Rick had been taken. It wasn't supposed to end the way it did. No one was supposed to die. But that's how everything ended up. It didn't matter how hardened the apocalypse made any of them, no matter how strong they saw themselves, they weren't prepared for what had happened. And no matter how many times she convinced herself she was stronger and no matter how badly she wanted to believe it, Nate realized that after this moment — if she even made it out alive — she probably wasn't as strong as she thought. Tears were streaming down her face. Nate was trying to hold back her whimpers.

What had happened? They were all so confident. _Rick_ had been so confident. What led them all to that moment?

In order to do that, she'd have to go back to where it all began. To remember the moments before and after she met Rick and his people. How could those memories make her stronger? How could what she and the others experienced in the woods on their way to Hilltop add onto that?

 **~8~**

Natalia Montgomery, that's Nate's real name. The only reason she went by the nickname "Nate" was because her older brother, Elijah, called her that to annoy her. Elijah had been the more sociable one out of the Montgomery siblings. He had the most outgoing personality; he brought out the best in people. Nate looked up to him. He was her big brother, after all. Then the world went to shit and Elijah died. That was the first time Nate saw rotters actually devour someone; and she couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.

The rotters had surrounded Elijah, Nate, and the small group they were traveling with. It was still early in the apocalypse, but the number of rotters had increased significantly. Nate and the others had huddled inside an abandoned thrift shop while a herd of rotters banged on the windows. They'd been so distracted by what was happening outside, they didn't even bother to pay attention to what was _inside_. There had been two rotters in the thrift shop that they didn't notice until it was too late. They took down Elijah first, considering he was closer to them. He went down fighting, but since they caught him by surprise, his defense was sloppy. One of their group members, a girl around Elijah's age named Minnie, tried to kill the rotters, but the combined weight of the herd outside caused the front door to collapse. Despite Nate not wanting to leave her brother — who had long since died at that point — Minnie and the others convinced her to go. Elijah was gone and they weren't about to let anyone else die.

But what about the rest of Natalia's family? Aside from her older brother, Nate had another younger brother named Jude and a younger sister named Helena. Jude and Helena were Nate's half-siblings. Her parents divorced when she was a little over a year old, her and Elijah's father, Lenny, gained sole-custody and then remarried two years later. Becca, the stepmother, was a decent woman. She wasn't exactly what Nate expected, but she wasn't going to complain. Becca wasn't abusive in any way, but she wasn't as engaged in getting to know her stepchildren. Elijah seemed to get along fairly well with her, which was to be expected. Nate, on the other hand, as the years went on, couldn't have cared less if she had _any_ relationship with Becca.

When news of the outbreak started spreading, becoming more of an issue, Lenny was worried about the safety of his eldest children. Once the news of an unknown virus and the dead coming back started becoming increasingly concerning, Elijah and Nate had already moved out of the house. Nate had been living in Louisiana with some friends; Elijah had been living in Mississippi with his girlfriend. Lenny had called them, asking to come back home, back to Virginia. The siblings knew better than to argue, knowing their father's wish to have them home where he knew they'd be safe was important.

Not long after coming back home, news stations started airing safe-zones. Things were getting too bad and people needed to get to designated areas immediately. The military showed up not long after. Then things got worse. People had been nervous going into the safe-zones; there had been moments of brief rioting, moments of panic and chaos. But when rotters started showing up, when the military and the government couldn't keep anything under control, the serious rioting happened. Elijah and Nate got separated from their family. While it would've been nice to stick with the others, they knew it wouldn't have been possible. The rioting had become too intense. Remaining soldiers resorted to violence to try and keep the peace; rioters were causing as much destruction as possible. People were killed, the safety of the safe-zone was breached. One thing led to another, and Nate ended up alone.

Not long after Elijah's death, Nate decided to leave her group. She couldn't bear the thought of being with them. Every time she saw them, she imagined she'd see her brother being there. She imagined being able to talk to him, to tell him the things that were bothering her. It pained her every time she remembered she couldn't. That was why she left.

 **~8~**

Nate had decided, after leaving her first group, she'd do better on her own. She didn't want to be around other living people. Natalia had convinced herself that by being around other living people, it would only lead to death. In some weird way, she preferred the company of rotters over the company of humans. Rotters were easily killed. A simple blow to the head and they were done for. Humans were more complicated — they were able to fight back, they could think. Nate didn't have the time to deal with that.

The progression of the apocalypse had gone on in a manner Nate couldn't even imagine. She saw once vibrant communities rendered to abandoned ghost towns. Buildings and homes that had been broken into for supplies; cars that were upturned, abandoned, destroyed. Garbage littered the streets and plants were overgrown. Every once in a while Nate would come across a rotter, but she wouldn't kill them unless she had to. If they were coming at her, then she'd kill them.

In the time since she'd left her old group — whether it had been weeks or months, she didn't know — Nate hadn't seen another human being. Being alone with her thoughts had become something she grew accustomed to. After a while, Nate stopped paying attention to where she was going and she stopped paying attention to the time. All of America had been effected by whatever the _hell_ the outbreak was. No one had ever found out what caused it. Was it bacterial? Was it fungal? Was it some weird biohazard government toxin no one knew about? No one knew. It was a mystery. But it wasn't like anyone would find out what it was anyway. Not with the condition the world was in. Besides, Nate had no interest in finding out what the rotter virus was anyhow. Survival was more important.

Do whatever you can to live. That had been Elijah's saying.

"You may not like it," he had said, his voice solemn, "but it's necessary. It's. . . .essential."

It was something Nate tried to live by. She couldn't save her brother at the thrift shop, but she could at least survive using the motto he had. It was the closest thing she had to remembering him. His old saying had done her well for the most part. That is until she ended up in an abandoned town.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry for this chapter's delay, but hopefully you guys found some enjoyment in it. If there was anything you found confusing, don't hesitate to let me know. I'll try and clear it up to the best of my abilities. PM me the confusing bits and I'll clarify what I meant and try and make some changes to this chapter.**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **I'll try and go further into Nate's background as the story progresses, so don't go thinking I purposely left her as a vague, confusing character or anything. I'm going to have it where it'll be a bit before she meets Rick and Company. It'll be after season 1 where Nate meets them; so after the whole CDC incident.**

 **If you've got ideas for future OCs or potential subplots you'd like to see added to the story _[I know, it's weird since it's just the first chapter]_ , leave a review or PM me.**

 **Be kind to one another, don't text and drive, and have a lovely/safe summer.**

 **Thanks plenty.**

 **Scarlet Tchaikovsky**


	2. Chapter 1: Milk and Cookies

_Hush, little baby, drink your spoiled milk,_

 _I'm fucking crazy, need my prescription filled,_

 _Do you like my cookies? They're made just for you,_

 _A little bit of sugar, but lots of poison, too,_

 _Ashes, ashes, time to go down,_

 _Oh, honey, do you want me now?_

 _Can't take it anymore need to put you to bed,_

 _Sing you a lullaby where you die at the end..._

-Milk and Cookies; **by Melanie Martinez**

* * *

It was a small neighborhood, probably a really nice one before. All the houses had been broken into; garbage littered the ground, just like in every other town or city Nate found herself in. Things were a mess. If there were any cars left at all, the windows had been smashed, some of the tires were missing, the hoods were left up — obvious signs of looting. For the houses, the front doors were kicked in; the windows were smashed; the walls were spraypainted; Nate could see a few houses had actually been burned down. As to why looters felt the need to burn houses down was mystery in and of itself. Weeds were growing wildly in the yards, in the cracks in the pavements and street, trees were growing out of control — it all looked so strange. Nate couldn't help but wonder what kinds of people lived inside those houses before. How many of them housed children? How many of them were the first ever houses bought by couples? What kinds of memories did they hold? Sighing, Nate pushed the thoughts out of her mind.

The only reason she was in the neighborhood was to find a place to sleep for the night. It was getting late and she couldn't afford to be in the open. Rotters weren't as active at night — from Nate's observations — so she knew she wouldn't be in _huge_ trouble, but survivors tended to be more active at night. At least, that's what she assumed.

With the sun getting lower and the air becoming chillier, Nate knew she'd have to not be so picky and just decide on a house to stay in. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she walked up to a house near the end of the neighborhood and peered in the windows. It was dark inside, difficult to see. None of the windows on the front of the house had been smashed, and the door was barely hanging on by itself, though Nate knew better than to absently walk into an environment she knew nothing about. Knocking on the windows, she waited. Rotters were drawn to sound, and Nate knew they'd come to the front of the house once they heard the knocking. When nothing happened, Nate looked around quickly to make sure the coast was clear before knocking on the window again. Pursing her lips, she carefully made her way to the partially unhinged front door and maneuvered her way inside the house. There was barely enough light to illuminate past the partially open doorway, so Nate quickly dug through her backpack and got out a flashlight.

With the flashlight on, Nate could see how much of a mess the house was. Tables were overturned; the walls had been vandalized; the kitchen was a mess; the floor and ceiling had stains on it; chunks of wood and broken glass littered the ground. Nate could see empty cans and beer bottles on the ground, cigarette butts were all over the floor. The house reeked, smelling of decaying food, old cigarette smoke, sewage, and stale beer.

Taking out a knife Nate had, she carefully and quietly started walking. Walking into the kitchen, Nate could see dirty dishes piled high in the sink and more beer bottles all over the counter and dirtied kitchen table. The fridge doors had been left open, any contents inside having gone bad long ago. It took a lot of control for Nate to vomit at the smell of the rotted food.

Working her way over to another room in the house, Nate could see some of the windows were boarded up, too. The room seemed to be some kind of study; books were thrown everywhere, pages had been ripped out, and a lot of the furniture had been moved around to accommodate for temporary living arrangements.

Leaving the study, Nate made her way to every room on the bottom level, finding no rotters, before standing at the base of what once must have been an elegant staircase. What stopped her from going up the stairs was the decomposing body on the first two steps. From the clothes, Nate could tell it was a woman's body, and that it had been left in that spot for probably a number of months. The smell on its own was enough to make Nate's eyes water and to make her vomit a little in her mouth. Given that the body was in no way moving or acknowledging Nate's presence, it could only be assumed that the woman had been hit in the head with something. Swallowing thickly, Nate quickly stepped over the body and jumped up the first few steps. Looking back, the body hadn't moved an inch. Walking up the remaining stairs, Nate stopped at the top step to shine her flashlight down the hall. It was semi-dark and dirty. Some of the doors on the second floor were closed, some were left wide open. Taking slow, deliberate steps, Nate started walking.

Walking up to the first closed door, she waited to hear if there were any noises on the other side. Carefully wiggling the doorknob, she frowned. It was locked. Going to the first opened door, Nate quickly aimed her knife and started inspecting the room. It was empty. The room itself was a mess, obviously a kid's room but it was still looted. Turning to leave, Nate froze when she heard something fall. Quickly making her way out to the hall, Nate's eyes widened when she saw a figure running to one of the other open rooms.

"Wait!" she called. The figure stopped. "I'm not going to hurt you. Can you turn around?" Shining her flashlight in their direction, Nate's brows furrowed. The figure was a child. "Hey, is this your house?" she asked. No response. "Can you answer me? I need a place to stay for the night." After a moment of long silence, Nate watched as the kid turned around, showing the face of a terrified young boy. His pale blue eyes were wide with fear, he looked like he was breathing heavily. His messy brown hair looked tangled and unkempt, sticking up in all directions. "Is this your house?" Nate repeated.

"I was hungry," he stammered. "I-I wanted to get something to eat. Are you going to kill me?"

"That doesn't answer my question." Nate kept her knife ready just in case. She knew it would come off as harsh to attack or even kill a kid, but she had to keep in mind that the new world changed people. No one could be trusted.

"It was my home," he stammered. "My babysitter was watching over me." Tears formed in the boy's eyes.

"What happened?"

"There were these guys, a-and she locked me in the guest room." The look of horror on his face almost made Nate feel sorry for him. "She was screaming a lot and then it got quiet."

Pursing her lips, Nate cautiously walked over to him. She kept her knife ready, she kept her flashlight aimed in the boy's direction. He looked mortified, as if he couldn't comprehend anything. That was when Nate realized something — what about the boy's parents? "Are your parents alive?" she asked.

"I-I don't know where they are," he exclaimed, his voice cracking. "They left and didn't come back. I thought they'd come home and find me. . . ." Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a strangled sob. Feeling her shoulders sag, Nate felt guilt wash over her. She couldn't even _begin_ to imagine what he was going through. Being so young and alone, Nate didn't want to think about that from his point-of-view. Being alone and wandering the streets at her age was something else entirely, but. . . .

"It looks like people've been staying here," she commented.

"The guys who came in stayed for two weeks," he sniffled, rubbing his eyes. He looked almost ashamed that he had been crying so openly. "They didn't come upstairs."

"It's a good thing they didn't," Nate replied. "Can I have your permission to stay here for the night? I don't have anywhere to go."

An apprehensive look swept across the boy's face as he thought it over. Nate understood his apprehensiveness, she would be, too, if she were in his situation. After a moment of thinking it over, he nodded.

"Good," Nate said. "Let's set up for the night."

 **~8~**

Nate managed to fix some food for herself and the boy — and by "fix", she means opening a can of nearly expired beans. Since neither of them had any means of heating the beans up, they split it between themselves the way it was. While Nate absently picked through her rations, she couldn't help but observe the child in front of her. He was small, almost sickeningly thin, and looked skittish. It was troublesome, knowing that a child could get so thin and frail. Chewing on her bottom lip, Nate let out a sigh.

"What's your name?" she asked.

Looking up at her, the boy's expression became confused for a moment. Swallowing the last mouthful of his food, he looked down for a moment. "Jayce," he murmured.

"Jayce?" When he nodded, Nate nodded in return. "That's a nice name." He gave a murmured thank you.

"What's your name?" Jayce asked.

"Natalia."

"That's a nice name," he replied.

"Thank you." Silence fell between them as Nate decided to start eating her food. Jayce sat across from Nate, looking at her for brief moments before looking around the room. "Is there something wrong?"

"I was just wondering," he said quietly, "maybe I could go with you when you leave in the morning."

Looking at Jayce, Nate's brows furrowed. Her immediate response would have to reject the idea; there was no way she'd be traveling with anyone, let alone a child. But the possibility of leaving Jayce by himself, probably with no food or water, made Nate feel anxious. It had been so long since she had any company, and she had to wonder if it would be a good idea. Would Jayce slow her down, though? That was the main question.

Sighing, Nate shrugged. "Let me think about it," she said. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **What'd you think? Does this chapter need improvement at all? If you found something that came off as confusing, don't hesitate to let me know. Any misunderstandings or confusions will be settled as soon as possible.**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **If you're wondering when Nate will met Rick and Company, she'll meet them in a little bit. I don't want to have this story jump right into meeting them without giving some kind of background for her. Also, I will make sure to add in little tidbits of backstory of Nate's life before the apocalypse.**

 **Be kind to one another, don't text and drive, and remember sunscreen during the summer.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Scarlet Tchaikovsky**


	3. Chapter 2: Sign of the Times

_Just stop your crying_  
 _It's a sign of the times_  
 _Welcome to the final show_  
 _Hope you're wearing your best clothes_  
 _You can't bribe the door on your way to the sky_  
 _You look pretty good down here_  
 _But you ain't really good_

-Sign of the Times; **by Harry Styles**

* * *

By the time Nate and Jayce had finished their food, Nate started laying down, having her backpack serve as a pillow. She planned on staying in the same room as Jayce, just in case he tried anything. It still made Nate feel a little uncomfortable, thinking about possibly hurting a child, but anyone could become anything, and she wasn't going to risk getting hurt or killed by some potentially psychotic kid. So, as she laid on the ground, her head placed uncomfortably on her backpack, she stared at the ceiling for a moment before she turned her head to look at Jayce. He was curled up on the ground, his knees brought in, his arms more than likely wrapped around his legs to keep him warm. He definitely looked smaller like that. Narrowing her eyes slightly, Nate tried figuring him out. She obviously didn't know much on him, aside that his parents disappeared and a group of men had ransacked his home and killed his babysitter. She could assume his general behavior had to do with what he had been exposed to so far, but she had to wonder if there was anything else he wasn't telling her.

 _"He's obviously seen a few things,"_ she thought, pursing her lips together. _"Certainly, having to overhear your babysitter getting murdered had to be rough, but was there anything else he could be hiding? Has he gone outside the house before?"_

Jayce didn't seem like the kind of kid who'd survive an encounter with a rotter or two. As horrible as that sounded, that was what Nate believed. He _seemed_ like a genuinely nice kid, but Nate had to keep in mind he was probably inexperienced when it came to the dead. He seemed so underfed, so malnourished, that he probably wouldn't last long in any kind of physical confrontation. And his offer to go along with Nate on her journey, was that a smart move? It'd be good for him, so he could have someone to protect him and to keep him company. It may very well be good for Nate, considering however much time had passed since she saw an actual person. Would they both be benefitting from each others' company? But if Nate brought Jayce with her, she'd be tight on food, water, and medication. It was bad enough resources were becoming harder and harder to find, but having a companion — _especially_ a child — would make it difficult. She'd have to figure out how much food and water to ration and how much medicine to use in case either of them got injured.

Looking back at the ceiling, Nate let out a silent sigh. She wanted to bring Jayce with her, part of her really did; but she had to keep in mind that he would probably hold her back in more ways than one. Not only with the essentials, but she'd probably have to teach him how to take down rotters. And with her having to help him gain some decent body weight, it would take an even longer time.

"Are you not tired?" Jayce's voice snapped Nate out of her thoughts. His voice was a small whisper, one Nate had to strain to hear. She turned to look at him again, he hadn't moved from his position.

"I'm keeping watch," she said quietly. "Someone has to."

"No one's come by this neighborhood in a long time," Jayce responded. "You're the first in a long time."

"Someone's gotta make sure rotters and people don't come in," Nate reminded. "Just because I'm the first _person_ in a while, doesn't mean more won't show up."

Jayce didn't respond, so Nate could only assume he was thinking about what she said. If the last people to show up in his home were the people who killed his babysitter, then she had to wonder just how secluded his neighborhood was.

"Were you going to kill me earlier?" Again, Jayce's voice was a small whisper, and Nate had to really struggle to hear what he said.

"I didn't want to," she answered. "But if I had a reason to, probably." There was a heavy silence, and Nate knew that she probably didn't give the best answer, but she was being truthful. Most people would've lied, saying that they would never harm a child, but they were just fooling themselves into thinking that children, who were supposed to embody innocence, would remain innocent after being exposed to the new world. "It may sound harsh," she went on, "but I am trying to do my best when it comes to survival. You seem like a nice kid, Jayce, but that's just how it is now."

"I know," he murmured.

"Have you ever left the house before?"

There was another heavy silence. "Once," he whispered. "To get food and water from the neighbors."

"Did you run into the rotters?"

"There weren't many." Jayce's voice was trembling at that point. "I hid until they went away."

"If you want to travel with me, you have to know how to kill rotters." Nate's voice had an almost authoritative tone to it, and she knew that it caught Jayce's attention. "You wouldn't last very long out there without knowing how to do that."

"I just don't want to stay here anymore," he murmured, his voice trembling. "I don't think my parents are coming back and I don't know what else to do."

That time, it was Nate who started the heavy silence. Jayce's voice sounded so vulnerable, and she felt a tiny bit of pity for him. He was in a bad place, and God only knew how much longer he'd last before he starved to death. Or worse. Setting her jaw, Nate tried figuring out a middle ground where she'd have Jayce travel with her while figuring out how to settle essentials and practice in killing rotters.

" _If_ I let you come with me, you have to help me in gathering essentials," she murmured, "and you're going to learn how to kill rotters immediately. I'm not going to be the only one with a job to do."

"Really?" Was that hopefulness in Jayce's tone?

"Are you willing to do all that?" Nate looked at him. Jayce had adjusted his body so he could look at Nate head-on. "You need to earn your part."

"I-I'll do whatever it takes," he exclaimed. "I promise I won't let you down."

After studying his face for a good minute, Nate nodded. It didn't look like Jayce was lying. She really hoped she wouldn't regret bringing him along with her.

 **~8~**

By the time the next morning rolled around, Nate had gotten at least two hours of sleep. That was something she was used to. Minimal sleep was never pleasant, but if someone was keeping watch during the night, it kept themselves and everyone else accompanying them alive. Jayce had fallen asleep relatively late into the night, and Nate let him sleep in a little. He deserved it. From what Nate could tell, he didn't seem to get a lot of sleep anyway, so getting a few extra minutes in wouldn't hurt.

As Nate inspected her backpack, going over to make sure she had everything, she periodically checked on Jayce while glancing out the room's window. She didn't see any living people, but she'd see a rotter every couple minutes. They must've wandered in during the night. When everything in her backpack was checked and eventually organized, she nudged Jayce awake. Grumbling in his sleep, he rubbed his eyes before blinking up at Nate. His eyes were bloodshot and purple crescent shapes were colored around the bottom of his eyes.

"If you're coming with me, we're leaving now," she said. "We've gotta a lot to do today."

"What time is it?" he grumbled, slowly sitting up.

"I don't know." Shrugging on her backpack, Nate went over to the window and checked again. No visible threats unless you counted the rotters. "Early. I guess six or seven in the morning."

"Why're we up so early?" Jayce grumbled.

"You wanted to travel with me," she said sharply, "which means you have to deal with me waking up early to get a fresh start." She turned and looked at him. "The earlier we hit the road, the better off we'll be. We may be able to hit another town by midday if we're lucky."

"We might be able to reach Atlanta," Jayce said. He was still partially asleep, a yawn escaping his mouth not long after he finished his statement. Rubbing his eyes again, he looked at Nate with a tired frown. "I think it might be closer."

"How close?" Nate asked. Jayce simply shrugged. Scowling slightly, Nate ran a hand through her hair before letting out a sigh. "We'll figure it out once we're out there." Taking out the knife she had inside of her backpack, Nate motioned Jayce to follow her. "Do you have anything you could use as a weapon?" The question was whispered, just in case there was a possible threat inside the house. "It has to be something strong enough to kill a rotter."

While they tiptoed down the hallway, Nate could see the gears turning in Jayce's mind. He was trying to figure something out. "I think I might have something," he whispered.

"What?"

"My dad was repairing something in the house," he said, "and he had a screwdriver with him. Would that be good enough?"

Thinking it over, Nate nodded. "It _could_ work," she said. "But what about knives? What happened to those?"

"My mom took some with her when she and my dad left." There was a sadness in Jayce's voice. "And I think those men that came by took whatever was left."

"Well, the screwdriver will have to work. Do you remember where it is?"

"I-I think it was in the dining area," he exclaimed.

"Take a minute to find it and we have to go," Nate said firmly. "I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary."

With a nod, Jayce quietly but confidently led Nate down the hallway, and to the stairwell. They made it down about halfway before Jayce visibly tensed. When he saw the babysitter's body, he froze. It was still in the same position it was in the night before. Nate's notice to his hesitation made her feel a bubble of frustration form inside her. Was he always hesitating when it came to the body?

"Don't hesitate," she whispered. "Your babysitter's gone, Jayce. She's not reanimated, which is good. We've got to keep moving."

Swallowing thickly, he nodded. They couldn't afford to stick around, and he didn't want to give Nate a bad idea of him. She was taking him in, giving him a better chance at survival. He wasn't about to ruin it.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **How'd you like this chapter? I hope it was interesting enough for you guys! If there's anything that came off as confusing or unclear, don't hesitate to let me know, okay?! I'll clear it up the best I can in the next update.**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **Do you have an OC or a subplot you'd like to have written into the story? Don't hesitate to PM me or leave a review. Do you have constructive criticism you'd like to give? Please, don't hesitate to do so; whether you do it over PM or a review, I don't care. Constructive criticism is one of the best ways to help improve a new story.**

 **On another note, I don't entirely know when Nate and Jayce will meet Rick and company. I'll try and have some chapters focusing on the relationship of these two before jumping into the canon characters.**

 **And that is all I've got.**

 **Be kind to one another, don't text and drive, and be sure to live your life to the fullest.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Scarlet Tchaikovsky**


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